Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Trusting My Instincts

"You want what?" Dain Ferrow asked. The second-in-command of the Chainrunners was, of course, notified when one of the captain's sons showed up at the reception and explained to the receptionist that he wanted an audience with the captain to request permission to leave the ward.

Dark circles under Dain's eyes revealed that he had gone several days without real sleep. He demanded some sort of explanation for why I wanted an audience with the captain, but I could offer none, so he passed along my request, looking troubled at the notion of scheduling two audiences with the same person in a single month—even if that person was the captain's newly adopted son.

Just like last time, though, the Captain summoned me almost immediately. She never made me wait. Apparently, she had heard everything from Dain already, and she stood behind her wide desk, arms folded, genuinely curious and somewhat vexed by my request.

"So," Lirien Blackthorn said, her voice calm but edged with tension, "you want to leave the ward… Why?" Her gaze flicked over me, sharp as a blade. She looked as if she had just come from a morning training session, muscles still tense beneath her light armor that she wore even in her office, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Well…" I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. She caught the uncertainty in my voice right away.

"I have the guard post's reports," she went on, leaning one hand on the desk. "They told me you were leaving the district during winter because it was too cold on the streets and the fog wasn't as cold, even in winter." She paused, and I felt her studying my every blink. "That's what you told them, at least. And don't forget, I'm the Captain of the Chainrunners. The guards can't hide anything from me."

She was right, of course. I should have known she would piece the story together. But she wasn't entirely correct. At first, I truly believed I had gone into the fog simply because of the winter cold. But it wasn't my first winter. The long sleep always claims me, no matter how harsh the cold or the hunger. I pondered why I had really left but found no answer.

Lirien continued, her tone measured. "I've provided everything you lacked and more. You're not a street rat anymore. You belong to the main line of the Blackthorn family now. You have a home, servants, tutors… I even went out of my way during the last run to bring back beast meat, since you seemed so fond of it. If there's something you still need, you only have to tell your butler, and it will be arranged."

She was right again. She had investigated the truth behind my winter excursions, and she had decided not to confront me before now, probably because she already knew the answers. Everything I once lacked was now at my fingertips. Yet, for some reason, I still felt that strange pull toward the fog, as if it called me. I wondered if I was truly mad, like Kael told me.

But how could I explain that to her? Even I was unsure of my real motives. Part of me realized that, despite all the training I received—my daily drills and exercise schedules—nothing compared to what the fog demanded of me. In the fog, failures had real consequences. Out there, each misstep meant potentially drawing a monster's attention, leading to injury or a long sleep. That kind of risk changed me in ways practice sessions never could.

Was that what I wanted to tell her—that I felt more alive in the fog? That it shaped me far beyond what any tutor's lesson could do?

I gathered my courage. "I… enjoy the outside," I said softly. It was simple, perhaps too simple, but it was the truth. Lirien regarded me for a long moment, and I sensed that she believed me or at least believed I wasn't spinning a lie.

She rested her elbows on the desk, exhaling slowly. "You're a member of the Blackthorn family now, and we exist for one reason: to explore the fog. I don't want to grant this permission. Letting you wander out there alone is dangerous, no matter your so-called 'consumable artifact' or any other advantage. But denying a family member's request to go beyond the ward would be denying the very heart of what we do."

Her voice hardened. "Even though I consider it extremely risky, I'll allow it."

I felt a rush of relief tinged with excitement, though I tried to remain composed. Speaking the truth had worked, to my surprise. My mind flicked back to how the guards had reported my "consumable artifact" to the Chainrunners, even without proof, clearly she investigated me and they were questioned.

As I opened my mouth to thank her, she held up a hand. "However," she said, "keep in mind that I still disapprove. You might be the first person the fog doesn't send hordes of beasts after, which is a miracle in itself, and I'd hoped you'd put that gift to better use… in the future, at least. But if you insist on heading out now, you'll do it as a Chainrunner apprentice. Regardless of your age, you'll be assigned an official mission. If you die out there, I want your name recorded in our logs as a true explorer—one of the few we've had this past century."

She paused, letting her words sink in. From the set of her jaw, I could tell she was uneasy. Maybe she wanted to keep me in the district, safe under the protective dome of the ward till I became of age. But she had made her decision, she wouldn't stop me.

I realized that I was strangely glad to have a mission, my first real assignment in service of District 98. Though the dangers were high, it felt better than wandering aimlessly. For a moment, I considered hugging her. After all, she was now my adoptive mother, and I used to hug Elina all the time. But one look at Lirien's stern expression made me reconsider. She might be my mother on paper, yet she barely knew how families were supposed to act. She was the Captain first and foremost, a warrior shaped by a relentless world.

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It struck me how people from the center of the district, those with wealth and position, sometimes seemed to have less genuine warmth in their lives than those in the outskirts, who had next to nothing but at least shared small, precious bonds. What a strange world, I thought.

I was dismissed, and the next day I received a small metal badge with my name on it, clearly marking me as a "Chainrunner Apprentice." They also handed me a sheaf of papers detailing my first mission: to search for artifacts in the fog. It was straightforward: explore beyond the ward, see if there was anything out there worth retrieving for the district.

I didn't even need to succeed, as the text explained. If I went just a few steps into the fog and came back in a few minutes, it would technically fulfill my assignment. Perhaps Lirien intended it as a token mission, something that wouldn't push me too hard.

But I took it very seriously. I decided then and there that I would not return until I found a worthwhile artifact, something the district could truly use. Perhaps that was naive. Perhaps it was reckless. Yet the thought filled me with purpose, a sense that I was stepping into my place in this world.

I pinned the badge to my vest, feeling its weight, and looked out at the district's edge. Somewhere in the swirling haze, there might be something—an artifact or discovery—that could help us all. And so, with the captain's reluctant permission, I prepared to leave the safety of the ward behind once again.

Dain also informed me there was a symbolic meaning behind my mission. Missions to explore the fog had not been issued for many decades; in fact, there had only been a handful over the past century, and most ended in terrible tragedy. From time to time, the Chainrunners still arranged such missions to show people they had not given up hope.

But more often than not, nothing returned from these forays except the corpses of Chainrunners. Exploring while constantly hunted, and finding an artifact within just an hour or two outside the ward, was a tall order—especially when they already knew most of what lay near the ward's boundary.

In the end, these missions had gradually become acts of symbolic hope. So I wondered, what if I went beyond the known territories, to the lost districts, and actually brought something back? The idea of being the first exploratory mission in recent history to recover a tangible prize thrilled me, even if it was dangerous.

Of course, by the next day, most of the district already knew an exploratory mission had been issued. I found it almost amusing how any topic related to venturing beyond the ward spread like wildfire. But I supposed that made sense, whether successful or tragic, such missions were a display of the Chainrunners' courage—an effort to show the district that someone still dared to face the fog.

I figured I understood Lirien's logic, even if she had not explained it outright. I was an asset to her family, but in truth, I was stepping into what would likely be my death. My departure would at least show the district that the Blackthorn family was willing to sacrifice one of its own for the Chainrunners' cause. So even if I never returned, my decision would serve a purpose for them.

My butler and tutors, on the other hand, seemed more than a little annoyed. They had invested so much time in training a child who, in their eyes, was nothing but cannon fodder. I overheard them muttering that the only reason I had been adopted was to postpone any "real" exploratory mission by a few more decades. Personally, I did not mind their murmuring. Even if it took a long time, I intended to come back eventually with an artifact in hand, maybe even one capable of boosting food production in the district.

My first family reacted quite differently. They showed no surprise at all; they acted like they had seen it coming from miles away. I even told them exactly which type of artifact I was aiming for. Whereas my second family, the Blackthorns, might have been using me for political maneuvering, Meris and the others placed genuine faith in me. They believed I would make it home with what I sought.

A few days later, after careful preparation and studying routes on old maps, which Kara assured me she would memorize in detail—I set out. My backpack and pouches, now reinforced with sturdier materials, could hold more supplies. I also packed a few extra pouches that I could attach later, in case I found anything worth collecting. Of course, adding extra weight would slow me down, but I hoped to manage the trade-off.

I still carried my spears strapped to my back. Lirien had offered me one of her own blades, a short, razor-sharp sword battered from years of combat, but I stuck to my daggers, which felt intimately mine. I had put time and care into crafting or modifying them, and other blades were not typically made for someone my size.

My first stop in the fog was at my real home. It took me a few days to gather resources from the beasts I had previously slain, salvaging meat to sustain me and assorted materials for crafting. Over the following weeks, I fashioned extra weapons I could bring along, including a handful of tooth-spiked traps and simple alarm devices that would make noise if something crept up on me while I slept and were easy to set up.

During that entire stretch of time, I honed my skill at sneaking through the fog. I moved so quietly that it was beginning to feel natural, an unconscious habit. Fighting with daggers and spears also improved, though I knew I lacked genuine battle experience. Repetitive drills only went so far.

It was a shortcoming I intended to fix. The urge to fight gnawed at me, a voice deep inside that demanded real encounters. Kara insisted that I focus on assassination techniques: swift, accurate strikes that could incapacitate or kill a beast with minimal risk to myself.

She taught me how to aim for vital spots, describing in detail the bone structures of different monsters. For instance, most beasts had thick, dense ribs protecting the heart. But if I used a spear and angled it upward at around sixty degrees, sliding it just below the rib cage, I might pierce the heart in one thrust. I would never have imagined something so precise. Without Kara's guidance, the idea of stabbing at some beast's chest in that particular way would never have crossed my mind.

Before venturing farther, though, I decided it was time to face my first real fight.

Typically, no strong creatures lurked near the ward's perimeter because there was little of interest to them there, just humans with thin, unimpressive meat, no mana-rich cores, and hardly any resources to devour. The truly formidable beasts preferred areas deeper in the fog.

But for me, that was precisely why I sought a challenge near the ward. Kara, of course, advised against needlessly risking my life. She was right, logically speaking. Yet everyone kept telling me I possessed extraordinary instincts, instincts that demanded I test my mettle. So I chose to trust them.

And I decided to track down a nearby group of diremaws I had observed many times near the ward.

It was time to face those beasts again.